


I'm Just Fine

by grossmoth



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Platonic pals, and who his dad is doesn't help, from the moment i saw jughead i was like "that boy has done a drug or two i dare say", this is super short but like whatever lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9908150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grossmoth/pseuds/grossmoth
Summary: Jughead is reminded of his own troubles, and desperately tries to cling to the troubles of his friends.(or: Juggie is a druggie but he's trying his best)





	

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't wrote any thing even kind of fanfic-y in like five years so i hope this is cool. just a teeny tiny drabble about my precious son and all of my projected fears thrown upon him.  
> this hasn't been beta'd or anything so its probably a damn mess.

“Selling drugs…”

The hairs on Jughead’s arms stood up, and so he pet the denim of his coat in an attempt to rid the itch from his skin. Betty looked concerned, but not so much about his state of being and rather the idea of what her sister could have possibly been up to. From there on the day was filled with a quickened heartbeat, shake hands, and the overwhelming awareness of how tired he really was. How not-tired he could be if he just picked up his phone and sent a text-

No. A mantra in his head. If he was to keep it on the down low like so many of the other things happening in his life he wouldn’t have to admit it was a problem. A line or two a couple of times a week never hurt anyone. He could handle his money; between burgers and cheap food, cigarettes, and this. He could handle it. 

So Jughead deals with the fire in his spine and desire he can’t find a way to kick. Betty needed him, and even more than ever he needed her. Their attempts to try and figure out the mysteries of a certain redhead’s death and the mysteries unravelling around it were at the very least a distraction from the everyday. 

Like where he was sleeping tonight. He was lucky it was still warm out, maybe a park bench wouldn’t be too bad. It would, however, be obvious. Tonight it would be the bleachers again, with some quick arranging of the items he still owned it would be warm enough, and it could protect him more from the wind than nothing at all. Maybe if he were to save the bits of cash he had on smokes and blow he could find some shitty apartment. The idea made his stomach shift in a way that he couldn’t deny. In a way that scared him. Who would let a fifteen year old punk rent out anywhere anyways? No one would take him in. 

Excuses, there was always a new one but the comfort remained the same.

“Hey, Juggie, are you doing alright?” Betty’s soft voice shook him of his rumination. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m just fine.”


End file.
